When you wish upon a star
by fire is catching now
Summary: It doesn't matter who you are, your dreams come true. A collection of romance and friendship drabbles warming for every Hunger Games lovers soul! For Booky, from all your friends at the fire is catching forum.
1. Chapter 1

**So I met you on the forum me, Missy and Jo created and it's safe to say my life would not be the same without everyone at the forum. You are one of the main eager people always on the forum, great to talk to with a great sense of humor. I can talk interests, boys, fashion Rping or just being random and Booky is there.**

**So I got about organizing this drabble about a month ago, asking people sending reminders and editing but it's for you so it's worth the time ;) And what can I say, this drabble wouldn't be as epic if you didn't have so many people who loved you on the forum and were ready to help! You've made yourself pretty popular :D **

**Happy birthday Booky! Here's a CatoClove to make up for a loss of couple action in the film. Much love, hope you have a great day and keep believing, don't stop trying. Your worth more than you could ever know xxx**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger games.**

* * *

"Cato?"

The heavenly voice that haunted his dreams was close… it sounded real. Was it a dream? He wasn't quite sure.

"Cato?"

A shake. He opened his eyes slightly. Definitely wasn't a dream, but that didn't mean he had to wake up right? He tried to block the voice and remember his pleasant dream from before but was interrupted by a harsh pinch from said girl.

"No need for violence Clove, save that for tomorrow," he grumbled. "What are you doing here anyway, you should be trying to get as much sleep as possible for the big day."

"I can't sleep,"

He rolled over so he could see her face though it was slightly distracting and her lack of clothes didn't help either.

"Why? You're not worried about the games are you?" Clove tried to avoid his gaze but he could see from her nervous expression that it's bothering her.

"Clove I've seen you in the training room, and I'll admit you're good. I've seen you practising on animals you don't hesitate to kill. If I get wiped out the competition then I'm pretty certain you'll win."

She smirked "I know that, I'm not nervous about killing people. Like that girl on fire bitch I can't wait to get my hands on her. I've had to listen to all the rubbish about the star crossed lovers, these people will buy any story for a bit of entertainment it's pathetic!"

"Right with you on that one, so what's wrong?"

Clove sighed and moved so she was not sitting on the bed but lying next to Cato.

"I don't want to kill you," she whispered so quietly he could barely hear her.

"Well if it' any comfort I don't particularly want to kill you either," with his signature arrogant smile, that often made Clove want to slap him. Why is It, she thought whilst rolling her eyes, that I had to fall for this bastard. She turned away so she was no longer facing him, but didn't make any move to get off the bed.

"Aww come on Clove, you know you mean a lot to me. I made a promise to myself to keep you safe and I'm going to try to keep to that,"

"Hmmmm,"

He wrapped his arms round her waist so they were dangerously close, she could feel hot breath against her cheek and his carefully chiselled abs against her back. It was so tempting to turn around.

"Stop doing that!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said quietly into her ear and she shivered involuntarily. He tickled her under the chin and against her will she giggled.

Clove cocked an eyebrow "You're ticklish? The 'great warrior Clove' is ticklish?" he snorted.

"Shut up!" she grumbled irritably "I bet you are too."

"Me? No way!" she eventually turned around to see another smirk in place. She couldn't wait to wipe it off.

"Ohh I'll find out," he knew she would, didn't mean he wouldn't try and put up a fight.

"What no!"

"Aww is little Cato afraid of being tickled!" she teased in an excessively babyish voice before pouncing with seeking fingers.

Clove put up a good fight, but when it came to strength Cato was just too much stronger. They rolled around not noticing how near to the edge of the bed they were. Before Clove could fall she felt muscular arms around her, stopping her back from hitting the hard floor.

"Always watch your surroundings during hand to hand combat." Came Cato's mocking voice in a very bad impression of their old training instructor.

"Whatever, not like you noticed it either!"

To stop him from arguing back she shut him up the only way she knew, and pulled his head abruptly towards hers and crashed into his mouth. He rolled her over, so he could dominate her as he often liked to do, groaning slightly.

They'd kissed before but not for so long, since they were often rudely interrupted by other tributes and members of the Capitol. It had been suggested to use it as a way to get support from the public, but both agreed they would rather that everyone not knows about their whirlwind romance. Besides they didn't want to look they were copying the so called _"star crossed lovers of district 12." _

It was angry and passionate, for all they knew they could die tomorrow, might as make the most of the time they had now…

TtTtTtTtTtTtTtTtTtTt

"Stay with me!"

He clutched her face desperately, stroking her hair and holding her close. He'd never thought about it before but life without Clove would be so dull, so boring, and pointless. No one cared about him, his family just saw him as something to train and sell off, the capitol too, just an object. He was a psycho who only knew how to kill and hurt. And so was Clove.

" I…c-can't… it h-hurts… s-so much, C-Cato I-"

"Shhh now Clove," he whispered softly. And bent down so he was close enough to her ear so only she could hear. "I never told you Clove." He choked on the tears he was trying to hold back the lump in his throat grew bigger. Yet he found the strength to carry on "I love you."

But she was already dead. She had never heard those three words that counted the most, she'd never know and they could never be together. Never get married, have children or even break up and just stay friends, they were going to win with the new rule made for them. And for the first time since he started training to be a career he cried. He sobbed over her dead body, considering just grabbing a knife and killing himself, at least them they'd be together, after all who would care? No one would miss him it would be better than going on; then he remembered, he had to do one last thing for Clove. For her. He gently kissed her head, tears pouring down his face as he prepared to depart her body, and leave to kill Thresh, final words bounced of the surroundings like a cold hollow saying.

"Goodbye."

Shaking in anger he made a vow to himself. He would do his best to make them all have the heartbreak and pain he was feeling, and even if he died who the hell cared. His fists clenched in anger ready to hit anything that moved, ready to kill. Cato had snapped and someone was going to die.


	2. Chapter 2

_From Marina_

**Happy birthday, Booky! I hope you have an awesome day and that you enjoy reading this little drabble I've written for you. Have fun, eat loads of cake and brag about being a year older :D**

* * *

Fire.

They watch the flames and sparks, each lost in their own thoughts.

Their first year of taking part in the Hunger Games. Most would consider it an honor, but they don't know what to think anymore.

He is unsure. This is a job he loves, to create beauty out of fabric and cloth, to lose himself in his creativity, but just thinking about the children who will wear his creations makes him feel guilty and sick. So young, so innocent, and destined to die for the entertainment of the people of the Capitol. That is why he chose District 12, the least desirable District. He wants to make those children shine, to be loved, to give them a small chance of winning the Games. It is the least he can do for them.

She is confused. This is what she wanted, is it not? To work with what she loves, to design and to dazzle the Capitol citizens with her creations? But... But why is there an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach, a voice in her head telling her that this is wrong? She had wanted to be a stylist so badly, but now she is not sure whether it is what she really wants and there is no way out. Now it is her job to dress up the children of District 12, to help them in any way she can. And she will, because she feels as if she owes it to them.

They look at each other, green eyes meeting blue, and they realize that they are not alone in this. That they will always have the other to support them and give them advice. That they are friends, partners, and nothing will ever change that. It is not much to hold on to, but it makes them feel better, much better.

"The coal-related outfits are bit overdone, don't you think?"

"Only a bit?"

They continue staring at the fire, their lips pulled upwards in the faintest of smiles.


	3. Chapter 3

_**From Six**_

**It's the lovely and gracious BOOKY! Happy birthday young lady! 13 years old and so...WORLDLY! This is your day so enjoy it. Don't forget, we all love ya!**

* * *

Two large yellow eyes...glaring, watching, something didn't smell right...prey? No! Too large. Buttercup crouched under the house glaring at the strange beast making funny noises and blocking his path. Sudden movement to his left caught his eye, it was the girl that fed and protected him moving towards this strange beast. What was she doing? She's petting it brushing it, what's this I'm the king around here! This...this cannot be! This cannot stand. Buttercup slunk along the edge of the house foundation closer to the pile of junk next to the pen where the goat was being petted, soon the girl left allowing him a chance at a closer inspection. Once the coast was clear he slowly crept up to the edge of the pen. Now that he was right up to it the strange scent was stronger, closer and closer he crept , the beast stopped what it was doing and stood there looking at him. Over the course of the next ten minutes Buttercup inched closer and closer to the goat, suddenly it charged! Buttercup shot straight up in the air his tail doubling its thickness is a second, moving faster than he ever had in his life Buttercup was up a nearby tree. Soon his nerves had calmed to a point where he could begin the watching game all over again.


	4. Chapter 4

Dearest Booky: Happy Birthday from Ellenka! Hope you enjoy this not-traditional-for-me little treat :)

* * *

Lumber Raft

* * *

Finn is the finest fishy around, but even he's in over his head and drowning every now and then, especially here in the Capitol.

I'm there for him whenever he needs a raft to hold him above the dirty water that threatens to swallow him. And when I let him cling to me, I cling to him too, and don't feel like a festering splinter for a change.

His breath is like the sea-breeze I got a sniff of during my Victory Tour, and makes me feel somehow cleaner, whatever we do together.

I could get used to it, but I fight the idea for all I´m worth – 'cause what if even he were to be cut away from me, what then, what the hell? – and so does he, always the fish swimming through the eyes of the net, refusing to get entangled.

We Victors have to help each other, but can't afford to get too attached in the process.

We are all caught in a net not even the sharpest axe can cut, not even the most skillful-fingered fisherman can untangle.

All because we'd gripped the bait that was our own life a bit too tenaciously.

And we are doomed to pay for our own brainlessness forever.

()

Now there's another fishy swimming just above the gaping eyes of the net.

A fishy Finn seems to care about a whole damn lot.

A girl, with eyes green like the sea, dark hair hanging limply across her face like dark algae, or so he says. Finn knows her, both from before and from after, he's told me as much, and now he watches her like she wasn't a raft, but a buoy, or a lighthouse, or whatever weird stuff they have over in Four.

Whatever leads the sailors home.

Maybe even he doesn't know it himself, but if she sinks, he might as well sink too, or keep swimming stomach up, with stinking dead-white scales flashing in the strobe-lights of the Capitol.

I guess I couldn't help him after, not really.

I can rock his boat alright, but she can float it like the calm sunset waves he keeps going on about when he gets drunk just enough to be sentimental.

She might be what he really needs to sail on.

I move over to where he uneasily watches her on his monitor and put my arms around him, pressing myself against his back, my feet rooted firmly on the ground to anchor him.

He reaches up.

Fingers coarse from having tied a zillion knots caress mine, rough from ax-handles I've been holding onto for last bits of sanity ever since the Capitol robbed me of my proud pre-Games calluses.

"Thanks, Jo," he mutters and holds on tight, floating, floating, his eyes drinking her in, her and only her.

()

She doesn't drown, but just barely.

They pull her out – the last one afloat – and my pretty drowning fishy stops gaping and finally breathes again.

()

I don't pull away, not even after that, and neither does he, but that doesn't matter, he's far away from me as it is.

I don't know what the future holds for them, not in this screwed-up net where she just joined us.

All I know is that I'll do my damn best whenever they need a raft.

()

Brainless, Jo. You live as you died, brainless all the damn time.


	5. Chapter 5

_**From Jo**_

**Happy Birthday Booky my great Galeniss friend :) Sorry about my absence from the forum, but after Thursday I'll be on as often as I can! Hope you enjoy this, and have a great birthday!**

* * *

Her bow rests in the crook of her arm, her eyes focused and alert. At the rustle of a branch her limbs snap awake, and she poises ready to shoot. The sun catches her eyes even through the tree branches, making them sparkle like stars.

She pulls back her arm, slowly but surely, then lets go and watches the arrow spring from the bow, never taking her eyes off it until she bird falls limply from the tree. She grins at me on the rock, and I can't help but smile back.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She bends down to pick up the bird and walks over to me, leaves crunching below her feet.

"Like what?" I can feel myself blushing.

"Staring at me, watching everything I do, it's unnerving!" What do I do? Do I just proclaim my love for her now, or wait and let the romantic moment happen? What if she doesn't love me back? We're best friends; it could cause a rift between us.

"You're just…pretty. I guess." This is going badly. How do I keep conversing with her now?

"Pretty? Thanks Gale, but I think you going a bit too far there," she thinks I'm joking, still hiding something.

"Seriously, you're amazing Catnip," I start before I know where I'm going; she looks at me I'm from another planet, "I know this could never happen Katniss. And I'm sorry I've brought it up. I'll shut up now."

"What could never happen? Us?" I get a lump in my throat, but I fight it back. I need to do this. I need to tell her how I feel.

A barely audible noise comes out of my mouth, sounding something along the lines of 'yes'. Katniss slides onto the rock next to me and gives me a peck on the cheek. She leaps off and walks away, hunting bag in one hand, dead bird in the other.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey y'all. I wrote this Haymitch/Effie drabble for my awesome friend Booky. Happy 13th Booky! Hope you have an awesome one. Enjoy this fic. :D Lotsa love! ~B**

* * *

Haymitch was desperate. Peeta was hurt and Katniss was stuck in a tree somewhere. After all their training, THIS is what happened. He sank into his chair. It was just too much. Every year this happened. Every single year. It was the worst feeling in the world. To see the kid you'd trained so hard, gotten to like, crash and burn before your eyes. It was like an endless horror story. Once, it had made Haymitch cry. Now tears just weren't possible. This experience killed Haymitch every year, a little bit at a time. That's when drinking became his saviour. A couple of drinks took away this pain, took away the empty feeling and helplessness that was always churning in his stomach. So he drank. Big whoop. He'd always felt very defensive of his drinking. Who cares if he wasn't quite sober? THEY didn't have to watch two fine kids DIE every year. Psychologists were called in to help Haymitch. These people were a few strands short of Effie's wig Haymitch had always thought. It was always 'How do you feel about that?' and 'Why did that happen?' One time he swore that one of them was asking his pasta how it was feeling. He looked up at the screen. Peeta was shown, making himself a cover while whimpering at his leg. It looked bad. Haymitch leapt out his chair and went to talk with other capitol citizens. Sponsors were everything, this he remembered. So he walked over and sat down next to a lady and started to talk.

Effie watched Haymitch rise out of his chair and stalk off to talk to the citizens. She felt all mixed up inside at what she had just witnessed. His face had shown such grief, grief she had not known existed. She wondered exactly what happened to Haymitch each year when each of his tributes died in the worst possible ways imaginable. Such pain. Such a burden. Effie looked down at her hands. Haymitch had always seemed pretty shallow. Getting drunk all the time, shallow flirts with Capitol ladies, dressing in the worst possible way. But now she wondered if it was all an act, just something to hide his true pain. As she wondered she stood up, and went to go talk to Haymitch.

He groaned mentally as Effie Trinket came over to him. This fleabag again. Honestly. But as he looked closer, really close, not at her, but her face, he noticed her eyes, filled with sorrow. He stood up and walked to the corner. Effie followed.

"What the hell do you want?' he snapped at Effie.

She glared at him then straightened his tie. Haymitch nearly smiled. She always had a cute little huffy look on her face when she straightened his tie. It was adorable. He shook his head. No way! He would NOT like Effie. He shook his head again. Why was he even thinking about this? He and Effie stood there in silence.

"I'm so sorry." Effie whispered.

Haymitch stared up at her shocked. He looked in her eyes and for once, was amazed. She knew everything. She somehow felt his pain, not on the same level but felt it enough to be able to sympathize. He looked into her eyes again then gasped. Effie's eyes were beautiful. The brightest blue he'd ever seen. Even her cute little outfit with frills galore looked good, even though it made her look a bit like a pink profiterole. It was like he was seeing her with new eyes, and she was beautiful, in her own little way. Effie smiled at him.

"Why don't we go have some tea?" she asked.

Haymitch felt himself grin. He took Effie's hand and they walked off into the distance for tea room.


	7. Chapter 7

Dear Booky,

Happy Birthday you crazy noodle!

Hope you have a great day/year!

From Fauna and everyone else in the forum! (But mostly me)

* * *

The rain is driving her to seek out shelter; I can see it in the way she moves. Not with the usual cautious grace, more of a frantic dash. I watch her run, smiling slightly. As she tumbles into a river, I have to suppress a laugh; after all, I don't want to scare the little fox. After a moment or two, she doesn't resurface, and I begin to worry.

Suddenly, I see a bright flash of red on the other side of the river. I relax as she clambers up a tree, hugging her knees to her chest. I feel something that I haven't felt towards the other tributes. I feel pity. I sigh, stepping out of my shelter and making my way to the tree. I cough awkwardly, nearly startling the poor thing out of the tree.

Her eyes are wide as the saucers I saw on the train here. I then realize I was still gripped the axe I had taken off of a dead Tribute. I drop it and smile slightly, looking back up at her. She was a beautiful thing, even though we had been in the Arena for nearly a week. I shake my head, trying to clear those thoughts.

"Are you going to kill me?" Is the first thing I had ever heard her say. He voice is soft, almost a whisper. I shake my head no, and she smiles slightly. She swings her legs over the branch and looks down at me, curiosity lighting up her green eyes.

"You're the boy from District 11 right? Thresh?" She asked, shivering slightly. I nod, and then dig around in my pack. I pull out a large grey piece of fabric and toss it up to her. She caught it deftly, wrapping it around her slim shoulders and smiling.

Suddenly, and without warning, she jumps out of the tree and lands lightly beside me. I jump back, grabbing a rock and holding it in front of me. She cocked her head for a moment, and then laughed a bright sound. I realize she didn't mean to make me think she was attacking. I laugh sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck.

She smiled and came closer, leaning up against my side. I don't know what to say here, I just stand there awkwardly. She looks up at me with those giant green eyes, and I can't help but laugh. I wrap my arm around her slim shoulders and she presses against me, nuzzling my ribcage. I sigh as I lead her back to the overhang I had been using as my shelter for the past few days. We go inside and I set up a fire to dry the both of us off.

We talked for awhile, but about what, I have no clue. Night fell quickly, and we listened to the anthem play as the pictures of the dead Tributes shine in the sky. I count only 2 dead. Which means it's only me, Foxface, the boy from District 2, and the two from District 12. She drifted off to sleep first, curled up against the back of the overhang. I stared outside, looking around the emptiness of the Arena. After awhile though, I make my way back into the shelter and fall asleep next to her.

The next morning, I woke to find that we had no food...probably thanks to the Gamemakers. I look around, and notice a small plume of smoke rising into the sky, not too far from where we camped. Foxface wakes up behind me, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"There," I say, pointing to the plume, "That's probably one of the other Tributes; they probably have some food, or will find some." I say, seeing her nod out of the corner of my eye. We decide that I'm going to check it out, to see which other Tribute it is. When I get back, and we've established it's safe, she'll go get the food.

I return moments later with the good news it's the two Tributes from District 12. Neither of them will kill her, I know it. I watch her bright red hair disappear into the trees, and then I set about prepping the shelter for her return. I clean it out, and set up a new fire pit. Suddenly, a canon goes off. I jump up and hit my head on the rock above on my rush to get outside. I then remember that they don't say how died until night, so I sit in the shelter, wringing my hands with worry.

A few hours and several broken branches later, the sun finally dips below the horizon. I race outside as the anthem begins to play. I see her face, her bright red hair and beautiful green eyes. I feel a tear roll down my cheek, and I swipe at it angrily. I should have killed that girl from 12, even if she did try and help Rue.

I never found out that it was the berries...


	8. Chapter 8

_from Middy_

note: no capital letters is done on purpose. this is a non-linear drabble/ficlet.

* * *

she's falling, she's falling to the bottom of the abyss and there's nothing she can do, she's falling, she's falling and—

she wakes up. she's okay. she's safe.

(but she's not, oh lord, she's not.)

/

maybe they should all just accept that she's not getting better. she's broken, okay? she's broken and she's pretty sure she's broken beyond repair. there are so many things she regrets, so many events she plays over and over again in her mind, not being able to stop thinking about them. she thinks about the games. she thinks about stepping out from the crowd, telling the escort in her calm voice that she was volunteering.

she thinks of finnick, looking at her from the stage, keeping his expression neutral, but behind his eyes she could see that he was disappointed in her. he'd told her not to volunteer, but she'd ignored him.

/

"you're volunteering." he says.

it's not a question, so she doesn't answer.

"annie, don't." his voice sounds desperate now. "annie, please, don't."

she looks at him, a cold look in her eyes. "i'm volunteering, finnick." she tells him. "there's nothing you can say or do to stop me."

she walks away and he stands there, staring at her beautiful hair as she walks.

may the odds be ever in your favour, he thinks to himself.

/

she wins the games. she should be happy. there's a smile on her face as she accepts her crown, but only because she knows that she has to smile. what she's done is unforgivable, and she knows that. it's not like she was forced to kill children, because she wasn't. she chose to kill children, and that is when she realises that there is something wrong with her, something wrong with her, something bad. she's rotten to her very core.

she's alone in her house in victor's village, and she lets loose a scream. she screams until she can't stop, because she's evil, she's wicked, she's killed innocent children, watched the blood pour from them as they die.

(she didn't feel anything at the time, but she's feeling it now, and, damn, it hurts.)

/

she watches him intently as he skips pebbles out to sea. his arms are strong, and he throws the rocks with such precision that she can't help but feel like it's a sort of an art. she knows he's changed since he came back from the games, and she can't help but wish that he'd just talk to her about it. they're best friends, right? they talk to each other about everything, but now he's silent, and she doesn't like it, not at all.

"annie?" he calls, not turning to face her, still intent on skipping pebbles.

"yeah?" she calls back, rising up and coming to meet him.

he looks at her, and she's terrified by the look in his eyes. she's terrified because she looks so scared, so broken. he doesn't look like the man she knew before he went into the hunger games. that scares her.

"don't ever volunteer." he says, and returns to his pebble skipping.

/

he finds her curled up on the floor of her house in victor's village, and he picks her up and carries her to her bed.

he stays the whole night because he knows that she needs someone, because he's been in the same situation.

(he can't help but think that maybe annie isn't going to recover like he did.)

/

the screams begin to lessen, after a while. they never truly stop, and the nightmares are never going to leave her, but she's getting better, finnick thinks.

one day, when her mind is clearer than it's been before, he kisses her.

it's not magical, and they don't see fireworks. there are no violins playing, sparks of light shining through a window. they're just two broken people, two broken people who are broken beyond repair.

they're not two halves of a whole, they don't mend the other, they don't make the other complete.

but together they feel like they're a little less alone, and they feel like maybe, somehow, they can be better people than before.


	9. Chapter 9

_From Drew, who also published this on her own account because it is that amazing ;)_

A/N –– this is for Booky / Rachel, or Iridescent Bookworm, because it's her birthday(: Let's see . . . I first met you at the Fire is Catching forum, right? :D and now we're on so many forums together :') /huggles –– happy birthday, you beautiful, beautiful person ^^

and I'm so sorry that this sucks so bad D':

* * *

Strawberries

* * *

He's almost surprised when her name is called, because she never struck him as the type to take tesserae. But with odds this high, anything could happen, he muses, watchful of Fifilla Zayne as she congratulates each of the girl tributes in turn, then turns to the boys' Reaping ball. Maysilee Donner. He rolls the name around in his head, but all he knows about her is that she has a twin sister, and that her parents own the sweet-shop. He used to go there sometimes to buy sweets for his little sister Ashlie, and she was always there, either stacking up jars or packaging little bundles of peppermints.

The other girl tribute, Cleo Livine, is from the Seam, just like him, and looks like she has taken tesserae more than a hundred times in her life. Her face is scarred, her bones large and bulky, and she towers over Maysilee, who is tiny and delicate and frail and doesn't look like she belongs onstage, about to be sent to her death. He doesn't know why it bothers him so much, maybe it's because she resembles Ashlie, who is younger than her, but around the same in size and stature.

I hope she lives, he thinks, but he knows instinctively that he won't. And at that moment, Fifilla calls the second boy's name.

"Haymitch Abernathy!"

Their mentor's name is Rogere Thinnard, and he's in his fifties, having won the 3rd Annual Hunger Games. With his snow-white hair and weathered face, he looks about eighty. I wonder what it feels like to be him, Haymitch wonders. Every year, he mentors two children and sends them to their deaths. And this year, it will be twice as bad. He looks around the room at his fellow district-mates, who all have differing expressions. Cleo Livine looks almost resigned, as if she's prepared to die, whereas the other male tribute, Gildor Hollingsworth, is on the brink of tears, being only twelve. Maysilee, on the other hand, looks oddly determined, as if she's going to try her best to win.

"You're nowhere as fit as those Careers," begins Rogere tiredly. "You won't be able to outrun them." His pale silver eyes sweep a circle of the room, watching their reactions. "You won't be able to win them in a fight." There isn't a stir amongst the tributes. "You won't be able to kill them if you rely on physical strength."

Why is he telling us this? What, he's giving up already?

"So there's only one way," says Rogere, and if possible, he seems even older and more weary.

"And what is that?" Maysilee Donner's voice is cold and clipped, and everyone's eyes flash to her.

"You have to outsmart them," Rogere finishes, and there is a brief, sharp exhalation of breath from every tribute, until silence, cold and stagnant, once more settles on the room.

"So, Haymitch, what do you think about the Games having one hundred percent more competitors than usual?"

The glare from the floodlights is blinding him. "I don't see how that'll make any difference, seeing as they'll be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so, I figure my odds will be roughly the same." He hears her tinkling laugh behind him, and manages to smile a genuine smile, for the first time in days. It seems almost ridiculous that they should be smiling and laughing in the face of death – as if they are daunting the Capitol.

He is extremely surprised to see her step out from the mass of trees, having shot a tribute dead just seconds ago. Admittedly, yes, said tribute had been trying to kill him, and yes, said tribute had almost succeeded, but that didn't diminish the surprise any less.

"We'd live longer with two of us," she says, pale brown eyes regarding him cautiously.

He drags a hand across the front of his face, wiping away access blood. "Guess you just proved that." She shrugs, and he almost smiles at that, but catches himself just in time. "Allies?"

She nods, and that is that.

The first sponsor gift she gets is a paper package of strawberries.

When she sees it, she lets out a whoop of delight, but composes herself and counts the number of berries deftly. There are fifteen in total, so she lets herself take one and bites into it, exhaling blissfully, extending the package to him. "Want one?"

He wrinkles his nose, but food is food, so he gratefully takes one and murmurs his thanks. She takes another large bite, and juice trickles down her chin, dripping onto the mossy path beneath them. "Oh, I love strawberries," she says happily. "We used to eat them back in the District, whenever we could, which wasn't often, but then again –" she breaks off and savors the last bite she has of her strawberry.

He sinks his teeth into the fleshy fruit; it's exceptionally sweet, obviously modified. Glancing up he sees her watching him longingly, and rolls his eyes before extending the remnants of his strawberry to her. "Here, take it."

She shys away. "I couldn't –"

"Take it," he repeats, pressing it into her palm before turning away. "I don't like strawberries, anyway." Then he sets off at a brisk pace, trampling through the undergrowth, with her calling after him to wait up.

The second sponsor gift she gets is also a paper package of strawberries.

There are eight of them left in the arena. Around now, they'll be interviewing our friends and family, he thinks, staring up at the night sky while she unwraps the strawberries, the paper crinkling. His thoughts flash to Ashlie, and then somehow or the other her face shimmers and morphs into Maysilee's. He lets out an impatient sigh.

"Want one?" she props herself up on her elbows, holding out the packet and chewing on one. The scent of strawberries hits him again. "No," he says savagely, and turns away from her once more.

"There's only five of us left," she says, her face stony and grim. "I don't want it to come down to the two of us."

He studies the chasm at his feet, pretending not to care. "Okay."

And that's the end of their alliance, because without even pausing for even a split-second she turns on her heel and strides away through the long grass, not once looking back. He ignores the dull ache in his heart, because yeah, maybe he's grown fond of her, but that's only because she resembles his little sister, dammit. There's nothing more than that, except . . .

He paces back and forth, planning his next move, when he accidentally skids and his foot dislodges a pebble from the rock surface, sending it plummeting into the depths of the abyss beside him. He ignores it, until with a sharp zap it's thrown back up, thudding against the smooth granite at his feet. Brow furrowing, he picks up another rock – this one about the size of his palm – and tosses it into the pit. Seconds later, it returns to his hand, as if it has been there all the while.

Slowly, he starts to laugh. And that's when he hears her scream.

Her precious paper packet of strawberries is lying by her side, her fingers curled around a half-eaten strawberry. Her eyes are wide as the pink birds all but vanish, and she tries to say something, but chokes on her own blood instead. He can still smell the faint scent of the Capitol's modified strawberries in the air, and his fingers find hers, curling around them tightly.

"Don't," he whispers, his throat suddenly dry, and he kisses her cheek roughly, just once, and she blinks up at him in surprise. He grips her fingers even tighter once it becomes apparent that she's slipping further and further away from him with every passing second; it's almost like watching Ashlie die, except a hundred times worse and real, very real. He holds her hand while she dies, and doesn't let go for a long time afterwards.

He watches Effie Trinket bumble around onstage almost boredly, feeling the dull throbbing aches from his earlier head dive off the stage. She's overenthusiastic as normal, speaking in lively, chirpy tones that remind him so much – too much – of Fifilla Zayne, and he can't wait for this all to be over.

Then he sees her, amongst the sixteens, and his heart almost stops – then he quickly reminds her, it's not her, you fool, it's not her. It's her niece, who never even knew her. Madge Undersee looks almost exactly the same as her aunt did, with pale golden locks and large, innocent brown eyes. He thinks of her, dying in the fields, and him, helpless to save her. He doesn't have anything to remember her by, except that final, bloody kiss, and the scent of strawberries lingering in the air.

His attention is once more diverted as Effie Trinket draws a slip from the girls' Reaping bowl and announces in a clear, ringing voice, "Primrose Evedeen."

* * *

A/N – I feel like killing myself for writing this crap ;_; /is shot /dies

sorry, Booky D: D:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANYWAY AND MAY ALL YOUR WISHES COME TRUE!(:


	10. Chapter 10

_**From Chey**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Hunger Games Characters!**

**A/N: you all should know by now that I don't do these things unless it is important like now. I just want to say…**

**Happy birthday Booky!**

* * *

Rue's POV:

She's pretty, and she's from where again? Oh yeah, District 12. Katniss Everdeen, volunteered for her sister and she isn't happy about who she came here with. My Mentor was ruthless, drilling me and Thresh on every little detail about our competition! She even said to me.

"Rue don't even bother looking at District 12 competitors, they never even live longer than us in the arena!"

I sit there in the Training Room with Thresh; he left a while ago to practice something he was good at. Me, I decide to take a look at what everyone is doing so I climb up the netting in the Training Room. As I climbed up I bumped into another boy climbing opposite to me in the room. He was a little bit older than me, not by much, two years in all honesty. I climbed a little faster as he looked at me funny then he scrambled to catch up with me.

"Hey, you! District 11 girl wait a second! All I wanna do is talk to you!"

"I have a name you know."

"WH-What is it?"

He pants after his extreme effort of pulling his weight up the Cargo netting. I smile down to him.

"Rue, my name is Rue, like the plant."

"Rue, huh? It is pretty, I like it."

"Thanks, and who are you?"

"Just a boy from District 4. That's all, no need to give you my name."

"Huh? No fair!"

We slide down the netting; I can now tell that he must have worked on one of the ships because he dodges the nets like I do with ease. I smile and leave. He nods to me and I know I will see him again. He would make a good ally in the Arena…Thresh walks over to me a weird look on his face and in his eyes.

Thresh's POV:

I looked at Rue with sadness and affection. I noticed that she looked at the boy from 4, Corey, his name was Corey I think. I know this, I still care about Rue, ugh this is gross… I feel like she is my Sister and I am sending her off to War! Argh!

"Little bird, you okay?"

"Yeah why?"

"Nothing I just saw that other boy from 4 talk to you and I wasn't sure if he was bugging you or not. That is all. Come we have some training stuff to do."

Rue's POV:

We practice 'The Edible Plants'Test and we try our hand at throwing knives; Thresh goes off for monitored hand-to-hand combat. And I shadow our competition, the girl and guy from District 12 being one of my favorite to shadow, next to the boy from 4 he seems nice, or at least nice to me. With that I head back from the Training Room with Thresh, he smiles at me briefly while whispering.

"So Rue, you like the boy from 4? And I can tell you want to talk to the girl, Katniss Everdeen who volunteered for her sister huh."

"Q-Quiet, I need to sleep today was my off day!"

He smiles weakly at me, clutching his head.

"I think I know what you mean little one, it is terrible here. Even the air is fake I swear!"

"I know what you mean; I'd rather be back at District 11 climbing the trees!"

"I hear you there little bird."

We head off to our separate rooms and wait till morning before I eat breakfast in the Training Room with the boy from 4 and Thresh, they awkwardly sit next to each other. I laugh and start up conversation with my two friends; as we come up with a game plan. Me him, and Thresh would all make an alliance as well as Katniss, if she'll even talk to me. In the Arena we pretend to stick with our own groups but otherwise we are alliances. We shake on it and walk into the Training Room as I climb the netting again to keep a regular routine just so I can keep myself in shape and safe, The Boy from 4 smiles at me again and we talk. I talk about home, and the Whistle signals we use back at home. We find most are the same and we plan to deal them out in the Arena to signal each other. I give him a quick hug and slide down to tell Thresh, he looks at me with sad eyes. I have no idea why but he does. It makes me sad but time rolls by, and Katniss grew tired looking and depressed, even the Careers were sweating this out.

It is the night of the Interviews. Ismile Caeser Flickerman looks at me and smiles at my pretty blue dress, he asks questions and I answer him, very honestly as well until I hear his next question.

"So Rue, I know you are a little young but do you maybe fancy someone at all?" I think briefly of the boy from District 4 and smile.

"No, I don't but I have very close friends."

The crowd "aw's" in response and sighs knowing I may die. I leave the stage as the bell rings and wave goodbye to everyone watching me. Heh, I honestly think that the people here will have a better chance of hearing us unedited instead of the people watching me from home. I go back stage and smile brightly as the District 4 boy walks up to me.

"You did great! You were really pretty on there as well… also I never answered your question, so just for now call me Corey. Okay?"

"T-Thanks C-Corey." My voice still shook from the interview.

"Welcome Rue, I hope you win you know?"

"Y-Yeah and if not me, Thresh or you, let it be Katniss, she has a little sister who needs her! Oh how I wonder what she did and how she got an 11 on her score for District 12 that is a miracle!"

"I know exactly what you mean!"

"Well, I hope you survive for the Games, past day one later Corey, night"

"You as well sweetie."

He winks playfully as I blush and walk to find Thresh who just finished his Interview. We talk a bit as Katniss leaves the stage, she smiles at me gently and I wave. Peeta takes the stage and shock us all. Katniss as well, she blushes as she pales at the same time if that's even possible! We never get time to stand still so we just let it run in slow motion if we can. But this time it is in fast forward, straight to the Games.

District 4 Boy's POV:

I stand in the Launch Tubes waiting and looking, I see the little bird of a girl. I think she is beautiful, I love her, and yet if she wins it means I die, if I win it means she died for me to win. I give a small sigh. Why couldn't we have met under different circumstances! I have to tell her at some point, I haveto tell her I love her! The timers go off and we race to the Cornucopia. I see Rue, just ahead of me, the girl form 2 is about to get her, I scream her name and tell her to duck. She does as I wrap myself around her. District 2's girl, Clove I think, she throws a knife in to my side, giving me not even seven minutes to live. Clove pulls it out now giving me one less minute. Rue moves me off her gently, tears spilling over her eyes, as she looks at me. I give her the bag I grabbed and tell her to take it, which she does. I grab her hand before she leaves me forever.

"Rue, Rue I-I love you Rue."

"C-Corey! Don't leave me, please, but if you have to go, then goodbye. I'll either try to win for you or I will die and see you then."

"Don't die without a fight, and can you do something for me, just before I go, can I please h-have a kiss? I hurt. Stupid but I hurt and I want you to kiss me please."

"O-Of course, here." She places a gentle but firm kiss on my lips, and one on my side. Then she pulls back as the black surrounds the edges of my vision as I look at her, lips stained red with my blood, hair amiss, shirt already torn, yet she is still beautiful. She does a small whistle set of long complicated whistles, clear beautifully sad notes, right before the numbness and the blackness hits claiming me eternally I hope I can see her, once but not until she is married to someone else. At least, I hope she will live.

Rue's POV:

And just like that, the life is gone from him, he is dead and I gave him the final day of work whistles, signaling the end of another work day and the beginning of the play, he smiled, it was one of the ten whistle commands we shared, I place my hand on his chest as it stills, I close his eyes and look at him. He could be sleeping if I wanted it to be so. His cannon finally goes off and I run quickly, the Careers need to be on their way back around to scavenge the dead; I plan not be one of them tonight. As I run away I whistle the three notes used to end an average day of work. I look back quickly before readjusting the pack on my shoulder and scrambling around the trees. Thresh is still there I can tell by the sky count. I sigh happy that he lives and I look for Katniss or Thresh. I sob as I hop from tree to tree, Corey on my mind. The tears fall like scattered rain drops, and I sigh letting it be alright. If Thresh has to kill me, at least I will have someone waiting for me in the end…

Katniss sang to me as I lay dying, no more pain, just sweet songs and overwhelming need to sleep, I hear her voice as I lay there so sweet and sorrowful, yet she knows I am happy to not be alone. As I slowly fall into the blackness, I see a larger hand, bright white and I reach for it, I let my eyelids close and the air leave my chest. As Katniss finished her song I leave with a smile pleased that she finished it just for me. I walk until the hand brings me to a face, with blue eyes and curls, Corey! I run now and plough into him giving him a nice, sweet, I missed you kiss. He looks at me and questions

"So Rue, who do you want to win now? Thresh or Katniss?"

"Either of them, they are both nice people and I kind of think Katniss had more to go home to then us, or Thresh, I mean look we have an eternity here right? Well, I want to spend it with you!"

"I wouldn't have it any other way Rue."

We smile at each other and I lean into him as we hug.

"I love you too Corey, I never got to tell you but I love you too."

His face lights up again as he hugs me and places a feather light kiss on my lips.

"I just knew it!"


	11. Chapter 11

_From foxface_

A feeling of dread consumes me as I walk to the reapings, not for myself but for the blonde haired girl who walks in front of me, hand in hand with her sister. Primrose Everdeen, so kind and beautiful, her blue eyes full the fear that consumes everyone on this day. I give her a reassuring look as we walk to our sections. I try to focus on the mayor's speech but my thoughts keep drifting to Prim. How would I survive if her name was called? I immediately push the thought out of my head; her name is only in there once. I watch the ridiculously dressed capitol woman as she reaches her hand in to the reaping ball. "Primrose Everdeen!" she calls and my entire world crumbles. I stand rooted to the ground, trying to comprehend what just happened. Prim can't die. Suddenly I hear a strangled cry and Katniss sprints from the sixteen year olds section.

"I volunteer!" she screams, charging through the tributes to Prim.

"Katniss, no!" Prim cries, conflicting emotions crossing her face. "No, I won't let you! I accept my spot as tribute."

I'm confused for a moment but then I realize why she did it. Prim has always been the bravest person I know, she has saved so many people and now she's doing the same for her sister. I suddenly know what I have to do. I won't let her die, I will protect her even if it costs me my life. I don't even listen as the name of the male tribute is called. I'm already running to the stage. "I volunteer" I yell, leaping up on to the stage. A look of horror fills Prim s eyes.

"Rory you can't!" she pleads.

"I have to Prim, I can't let you die." I said, trying to hide my fear and appear strong for the cameras. Don't worry Prim, I can't let her die. No matter what happens Prim will come back alive.


End file.
